


Christmas Without You

by Stories_from_Unicron



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Intrusive Thoughts, Multi, Survivor Guilt, TOA Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stories_from_Unicron/pseuds/Stories_from_Unicron
Summary: Someone's missing from Toby's holidays this year.
Relationships: Toby Domzalski/Darci Scott, Toby Domzalski/Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	Christmas Without You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sykidraws](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sykidraws).



“And so remember, when it comes to Age and Geology, you’re gonna want a buddy system for these terms. ‘Eon’s’ buddy is ‘Eonothem’ ‘Era’ teams up with ‘Erathem’ and for a real power couple...”

Callused fingers guided the chalk in broad, sweeping strokes. Each glossary term was underlined in three warm curves, miniature smiles that did no justice to the teacher’s wide grin.

“System, aaaaand---”

The shrill droning of the school-bell put a merciless end to his punnery; and signaled the end of Applied Earth Science.

A dozen chairs scraped back from desks.

“Hey!” The teacher exclaimed, “The Bell does not dismiss you for winter break!”

Like a single, disappointed hivemind, the students turned to face him; several eyes flicking toward the door and it’s tantalizing promise of three school-free weeks.

Earth Scrience teacher stepped behind his desk and leaned forward, bracing his broad palms against it’s surface.

For a moment, his watery green eyes passed over the class; bushy brow furrowed to the point that it nearly vanished into his copper beard.

But the stern facade barely lasted long enough for him to pull a snowman-shaped bucket from beneath his desk.

“It’s the limited edition _Peppermint Nougat Nummies_ that dismiss you for winter break!!! Alright, come on, line up and get your sugar fix. Those of you not into sugar, I’ve got goodybags.”

Every student was given a gift, and even though most of the teacher’s fist-bumps were met with groans and rolled eyes, his warmth never wavered.

Some of the students even thanked him on their way out.

“Thank’s for the fix, Mr. D.”

“See you next year, Mr. D!”

“Have a Happy Hanukkah, Mr. D!”

It wasn’t until the last of the students filed out that Toby Domzalski let his smile waver.

And only after he closed the door.

Toby turned and gathered a pile of papers, His hands looked pale, almost the same shade as the paper the tests were printed on.

_Stop, remember your bre_ _athing exercises._

Toby tried to focus on filling his lungs slowly. He held his breath, counting to four before letting it out in a shaking sigh.

A gentle knock made him jolt, and he wiped at his eyes quickly.

“Yeah, hang on. I’m just...”

Clearing his throat, he pushed himself to his feet and went to the door.

Assistant Principle Strickler stood in the doorway; looking like a nightmare.

Less because of his horns and fangs, and more because the red and white fluffy christmas sweater he wore had actual blinking lights.

“You actually wore it. What did Arcadia Oaks ever do to you, Mr. S?”

Joking helped, joking made him feel more like himself,

“---Attempted Murder is one thing, but that shirt is a war crime.”

Mr. Strickler took the jabs with a smile.

“Tobias, we work together. You know you’re more than welcome to call me Walt.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna call the guy who chaperoned my senior prom ‘Walt.’

Strickler’s smile f aded and Toby wilted.

More than anything, he wished he could take back the word ‘prom’ and the accompanying mental image of his girlfriend in her sparkling purple dress.

“I know it’s a glaring understatement to say this year’s been difficult for you.” Strickler said quietly, “I don’t think you should spend the evening alone.”

“It’s fine.” It absolutely wasn’t fine. “I promised Izzy he could spend the night in Trollmarket. I figured I’d binge Gun Robot while I get the house decorated. He’s gonna love the blue and white. I can’t wait to surprise him.”

Toby heard his voice crack on the last phrase, and he cursed silently to himself.

If Strickler heard the waver in his voice, he chose not to mention it.

“I’m sure young Isaac will love it. Do you mind if Barbara and I check in on you before bed?”

“That’s fine.” Toby was getting so sick of that word. “I’d never skip a chance to talk with Dr. L.”

“Then we’ll call you this evening.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Toby’s conversation with his former teacher stayed with him on his drive to the Scott’s house. He lingered outside with the engine idling for a full five minutes.

_This years been difficult for you._

It was the truth, but what kept him from turning off the car wasn’t that the year had been hard for him, but how much harder he knew it must’ve been for the people inside.

The Scott House was warmly lit with soft lights, the golden trim a comforting contrast to the red and green framing the windows. The maple tree out front was draped in artificial icicles.

If possible, The led glow made the black and blue ribbon tied to the tree’s trunk look even more faded; it’s noble navy washed out from ten months in the elements.

The sight of the ribbon made his palms damp, and Toby’s knuckles went white against the steering wheel.

 _What, you gonna cry?_ Hissed a nasty little voice in his head, _You think you have it so bad? You feel sorry for yourself? They lost a daughter. And Izzy lost a lot more. Now he’s stuck with you._

Toby’s eyes burned, and he clamped them shut as a few tears slid free.

_Some protector you are._

He couldn’t face Louis again.

 _Louis_ ; Toby thought to himself; _at what point had he stopped being ‘Detective Scott?’_

Was it at the dinner where Darci told her parents about their upcoming nuptuals, and the rugged detective smiled with genuine approval at the engagement ring Toby smithed himself?

Was it the bachelor party, where Detective Scott belted out a truly inspired kareoke-rendition of ‘September’ by Earth, Wind, and Fire?

Toby felt the ghost of a smile playing on his lips, the faintest trace of joy at the fond memories.

The little voice in his head couldn’t have that.

 _Maybe it was at the funeral._ It hissed. _When he got snot all over that good suit of yours. Remember how hard he was crying? You almost dropped him. He hates you._

Toby’s smile vanished, and he briefly imagined that nasty little voice feeling satisfied.

 _This time you’ll see it._ The voice added. T _his time he’ll stop pre_ _te_ _nding, and tell you how he never wants to see you again. You can’t face him. You can’t do it. You’re pathetic. Disgusting. You weren’t there, and no one is every going to forgive you._

A flicker of motion broke the silent tirade. From the corner of his eye, Toby saw the front curtains stir.

There was a round face pressed to the window; chubby, cinimmon-colored cheeks peppered with freckles, a halo of beautifully textured hair, and the biggest, most perfect amber-eyes that toby had ever seen.

Those eyes lit up, and the little face began to bob up and down, mouthing a single word of excitement.

It was too far away for Toby’s ears, but his heart ached with the sound.

‘Datty.’

Not ‘daddy.’ Izzy’s little lisp took that word and made it something new, something light and butterfly-lilting, a word as new and special as Izzy himself.

And that was enough to carry Toby across the lawn.

And just barely enough to give him the strength to knock on the front door.

  
  


“You made these for me?”

Toby made a show of lifting the plate; holding the deformed gingerbread men up to the light as if evaluating a rare gemstome.

“I stirred!” Izzy declared, “And Pop-Pop showed me howta crack eggs. They were in the oven a looong time, but I see mommy while we waited.”

“You—” Toby froze. “You saw Mommy?”

“Uh-huh.” his son beamed, “I see her play drums with Auntie Claire, and I see me in her tummy!”

Toby returned the smile, setting down the cookies and kneeling.

Izzy was in his arms almost before he could finish opening them. He gave an exaggerated groan as he hoisted his son onto his hip.

“Oofta! You’re getting so big! You’ll be bigger than Aaarrrgghh soon!”

Izzy pressed his face to his father’s neck, giggling at the mental image.

“I’m glad you got to see your Mama, little man.”

“Can we save her a gingerbread-men?”

Toby closed his eyes, bouncing Izzy on his hip. More to keep himself steady, rather than to entertain his son.

“I know your mama would’ve loved gingerbread-men. But Izzy, she’s not going to eat it, remember, she---”

A throat cleared in the kitchen doorway.

Anxiety settled heavily in Toby’s stomach, but he forced it down and turned to meet his father-in-law’s gaze.

The accusations he feared wasn’t there.

Louis’ warm brown eyes were tired, his laugh lines deeper than Toby remembered. But there was no sign of bitterness. No hint of ‘why weren’t you there when she needed you.’

The kindness and understanding was almost worse than blame.

“Hey, son.” he said gently. “How are you?”

Toby gave him a quick hug, replying with the standard reassurances that he was ‘hanging in there.’

Thankfully, the word ‘fine’ didn’t make a reappearance.

“My sister’s bringing her award-winning Sweet Potato Pie, and we’re leaving the bacon out of the Green-bean casserole. So, what do you think sounds better for Christmas Dinner; Turkey or Brisket?”

“I’d never turn down a chance at your world-famous brisket.” Toby replied; instantly regretting his tone.

It was too eager. Too cheerful. He didn’t deserve to be cheerful.

“Brisket it is.” Louis replied with a similar forced-cheer.

“Roast Beast!!!” Izzy squeaked with delight.

“Right, Little man. Roast beast.” Toby gave his son another squeeze then set him down. “Go get your coat, bud. And Don’t forget your gloves. I’ve got your overnight-bag all ready.”

Izzy turned on his heel and rushed from the room, brushing past Louis with a tiny ‘Scuse me, pop-pop.’

His tiny footsteps receded into the house, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between Toby and his father-in-law.

Louis cleared his throat again.

“So, we’re still on for friday? For Zos—Zots---”

“Zose Hanukkah, yeah.”

“Do you need any help, setting things up?”

Toby’s eyes grew hot. The quiet kindness in his father-in-laws voice almost undid him.

“N-nah, it’s fine. You’ve done a ton already, I can throw a Hanukkah bash. The whole family’s dropping by, right?”

“Darci’s aunt will be there, and her cousins. I can’t promise they won’t drop off casseroles.”

“It’s---it’s funny. Didn’t think we’d still be getting casseroles after ten months.” Toby said quietly.

“Yeah. I’ve still got Barbara’s lasagne in the freezer.” Louis crossed his arms. “Ten months...It...It doesn’t feel like she’s been gone that long.”

“Datty, look!”

Before Toby could respond, Izzy came running into the room, clutching a massive white book. He stumbled to a stop and lifted it, revealing the name ‘Scott’ outlined in silver.

“You can see mommy while I Christmas shoppin!”

“Oh, I’m not sure, Little man. This belongs to your Grandpa.”

“It’s fine.” Louis said quickly, “Why don’t you borrow it. I’ll pick it up Friday.”

He pushed the album into his hands.

“Wait,” Louis blinked, kneeling down to Izzy’s level. “You’re going Christmas Shopping in Trollmarket?”

“Yep! I save’ up my socks!” Izzy looked very pleased with himself. “Gonna get everyone a present!”

Louis blinked again, processing that about as well as any Grandparent could. After a moment he smiled.

“Alright, then.”

As Toby watched, Louis kicked off his bunnyslippers, passing them to Izzy.

“Little extra. Get yourself something nice.”

Toby’s heart melted as his son began to bounce with uncontained delight.

“Thank you, Pop-pop!”

Louis gave Izzy a quick hug before he stood.

“So,” Toby’s father-in-law said quietly, “If you change your mind, about needing help, you know where to find me.”

“I know.” Toby’s mouth suddenly felt very dry, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  
  


  
  


The distracted bustle of trollmarket was a welcome respite.

While Arcadia Oaks was filled with gentle tones and sympathetic glances; the trolls below didn’t bat an eye at Toby’s quiet grief. Death was a common part of Troll life, even among the Pact Trolls. Most of them had lost siblings, and children---

and mates. In that regard; Toby was in good company.

“UNCLE AAARRRGGHH!!!!” Izzy’s voice reached an impressive decible as he ran at Aaarrrgghh and Blinky with arms outstretched.

“Little man!” Arrrgghh bellowed with equal enthusiasm, dropping down into a play-crouch.

“Happy Holidays, young Isaac!” Blinky declared, ducking out of the way as Aaarrrgghh flopped onto his back, making it easier for Izzy to scale him like a jungle-gym.

“Here’s his overnight bag.” Toby passed the tote to Blinky, “He’s got two pairs of jammies, his stuffie, and a burrito you can heat up when he gets hungry. And for you and Aaarrrgghh; a bag of the finest fur and hairballs from Meow Meow P.I the Third.”

“Tobias, there’s no need to bribe us!” Blinky sounded genuinely affronted, “Aaarrrgghh and I are always delighted to spend time with young Isaac.”

Aaarrrgghh rumbled in agreement as Izzy propped his chin between the Krubera trolls’ horns.

“I know, but you’re still doing me a favor.” The sight of Aaarrrgghh and Izzy made Toby’s eyes prickle with tears. Aaarrgghh had been the first Troll to hold Izzy. Darcy had placed him in the Krubera trolls arms herself.

“You gotta go, datty!” Izzy spoke up, “You can’t see the presents! Hafta be secret!”

“Right, right. I’m going!” Toby pressed a kiss to Izzy’s forehead. “Love you, little man.”

“Love you, datty!”

Toby turned, silently thankful that he’d slip away before one of his Troll friends could hug him, or touch him, or give him any of the kindness he KNEW he didn’t deserve---

“Tobias.”

Blinky’s hand on fell heavily on his shoulder.

“Master Jim has prepared a gift for you. He and Claire are waiting in the heroes forge.”

Toby winced.

“I’m not sure, Blink. I’ve got a lot of decorating to do, and I wouldn’t want to third whell them---”

“Go see Jim.” Aaarrgghh said, as sternly as the gentle troll could manage.

“Yeah, Datty! Give Uncle Jim and Auntie Claire hugs from me!” Izzy agreed.

“Alright, alright!” Toby lifted his palms in defeat. “I’ll go hug them!”

Blinky made a playful shoo-ing motion, and Toby backed away after waving one last good-bye to his son.

  
  


Fifteen years after Toby first set foot in it; the Hero’s Forge remained one of his favorite places. He and Jim had been the first humans ever who’d been allowed to see it; and at the time the Hero’s Forge seemed like an entirely alien, other-worldly place.

Now, Jim looked completely at home.

The Trollhunter snarled; rolling beneath a swinging blade the size of a tanker truck. As soon as his feet were under him, he sprang into the air, using the clawed fingers of one hand to hoist himself out of the way of a gout of flame.

A training dummy jerked up from the floor, unleashing a volley of arrows in the Trollhunters direction. In spite of Jim’s confidence, Toby felt his heart skip a panicked beat as Jim’s fingers slipped; and the Trollhunter fell to the ground; tucking and rolling to ease the impact.

“Jim!” Claire’s voice rang out in alarm.

The sight of her Christmas sweater did something to alleviate Toby’s anxiety.

“Don’t get up!” Jim sprang to his feet, “I’m fine, you just stay there. I want you comfortable.”

Toby tried not to grin, really he did, but Claire’s slight pout as she settled back onto a beanbag chair almost made him laugh.

The Trollhunter crossed the Hero’s Forge, kneeling down beside his wife.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, touching his forehead to hers.

“Yeah, I NEED my husband to not break his neck before this baby comes.”

“So the neck’s off-limits,” Toby spoke up, “Is he allowed to break everything else?”

The two immediately looked up, letting out exclamations and warm greetings.

Jim came forward with an arm lifted, and Toby stepped into the hug. Jim’s arms were strong and steady around him, and Toby could feel the hardness of Jim’s armor against his chest.

Jim smelled like the beard oil he used to smooth his mane. Beard oil and cool stone, like the little cavern inside a waterfall.

It took a decent amount of willpower not to bury his face against his friends neck.

“Come sit!” Claire called out, scooting over. “There’s room enough for two.”

“Room for three, you mean.” Toby grinned, walking over to join her. “I see you got Not-Enrique’s gift.”

“Ugh.”

Claire made a big show of rolling her eyes, but as soon as Toby was settled in beside her, she hooked an arm around his shoulders.

“Not-Enrique is a traitor.” Claire stated, “He KNEW that if I opened it in front of our parents, they’d make me wear it.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not so bad.”

It was worse. A hideously bright shade of cheery-cherry, made of some soft fabric that hugged her waist. The front was decorated to look like a snowball, a plastic vision of glitter and artifical snowflakes, framed in gold tinsel.

It perfectly accented Claire’s bump.

“No, really.” Toby stifled a snort behind his palm, “It looks good on you. You’re---”

“Don’t say glowing!” Jim said quickly, “She WILL hit you.”

“Ah, C’mon Jim, we could take her if we team up!”

“Wouldn’t be so sure.” Jim made a small chuffing noise.

“Hey, what’ve you got there?” Claire gestured to the white album tucked under Toby’s arm.

He’d forgotten it completely.

“It’s...”

Unable to find the words, he held it out.

Jim took the album from him.

The Trollhunter opened it carefully, as if it were something exceptionally precious.

He brushed his fingertips over one of the pages.

“Hey, check it out, Tobes.”

Jim lowered himself to the ground then pointed to a photo.

Darci’s face was painted with thick black eyeliner, her t-shirt and shorts sporting strategically placed rips and tears that accented her spiked accessories.

Mary stood beside her in brightly clashing shades of pink and black, her glitter make-up adding a flourish to her glam-rock costume. And standing between them, in her shining purple armor, was Claire. The three of them proudly held up a guitar-shaped trophy.

Beneath the photo, in Louis Scott’s crisp handwriting...

‘Mama Skull taking home Second Place in the Arcadia Oak’sTribute Band bash.’

Toby’s breath hitched. Almost against his will, he lifted a hand to the picture, tracing over Darci’s proud grin.

There were a few more photos from that night. Darci on stage, her face lit by the pyrotechnics, her arms raised to bring a wild beat down against the drumset. A candid shot of Darci trying to manage an oversized chili-cheese hotdog, shooting the photographer a withering look.

Toby turned the page, and this scene showed Darci in front of the Police Station. Ten or fifteen people were crowded in around her, mostly women. She had one hand on the shoulder of a blond woman, and the other on the arm of a thin changeling. Here, Darci was looking directly into the camera, and the fierce pride in her eyes had little to do with her own accomplishments.

‘Victim’s Advocate of the Year.’ read the writing below it, ‘Third year in a row.’

“She helped so many people.” Toby whispered.

“She was a hero.” Jim added softly.

Another turn of the page revealed a cloudy ultra-sound image. He and Darci standing in the kitchen, Toby in a chef’s hat and fake moustache, Darci in an apron. The two of them were gesturing with great drama toward their oven, and the unopened package of Hamburger buns inside.

“Jim squeed when we saw this picture.” Claire said, “Literally, he reached a decibel previously known only to Guinea Pigs.”

“It was a manly squee!” Jim protested, “Very rough and trollish!”

“Yeah.” Toby smiled. The tears were flowing freely now, with no way to call them back.

The re were more photos. Their wedding in Darci’s family church, the afterparty in Trollmarket, the glass-stomping.

Darci’s pregnancy. The baby-shower where Jim burst into tears when Darci named him and Claire Godparents. How strong and brave and beautiful she looked holding their newborn son. The new family introducing the baby to Trollmarket. How tiny newborn Issac looked; cradled in Aaarrrgghh’s hands.

There were birthdays and anniversaries; three of which Izzy got to share with his mother. Halloweens and Hannukahs, quiet, nameless moments that had nothing to do with holidays and everything to do with home.

There was a newspaper clipping in the album as well. A single black and white photo of Darci in her uniform.

‘Local Hero Gives Life saving Earthquake Victims.’

  
  


“I should’ve been there.” Toby choked out, “She needed me.”

“None of us were there, Tobes.” Claire gripped his shoulder.

“No. We were on a mission. She was alone, she was all alone and it was my fault.” 

Toby pressed his face to his hands.

“Toby, Darci would never blame you. She had a mission, too. She was a warrior as much as any of us. And if she knew how you were treating yourself...”

Claire’s voice trailed off, her eyes glistening. With a quiet sound of empathy, she wrapped Toby in her arms, pressing his face to her shoulder.

“I can’t do this on my own.” Toby whispered.

“You won’t have to.”

Jim’s voice was steady as he pulled the two of them into a hug. “You’ll never have to, Tobes. “

Toby shook with every sob he’d been holding back, his cries muffled between armor and a soft sweater.

“We’re here.” Claire said, stroking his hair.

“And we always will be.” Jim tucked Toby beneath his chin.

“I love you, Guys. I love you so much.”

“We love you too, Toby.”


End file.
